Past Paradoxes
by freudwithwings
Summary: Artemis Fowl had no problem understanding paradoxes. Travel with the Doctor had merely taught him to know when they weren't enough. Post TLG!


**Title: **Past Paradoxes

**Summary: **Artemis Fowl had no problem understanding paradoxes. Travel with the Doctor had merely taught him to know when they weren't enough.

**Warning: **Themes of war and death.

**Spoilers: **General knowledge of the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors is helpful but not necessary. This does take place after _The Last Guardian_ so stop now if you haven't gotten to it yet!

Takes place in an AU where the exposure of the People is not hand-waved away and a state of emergency was declared several weeks after Artemis woke among the fairy roses.

-x-

Dulles International Airport was crowded and chaotic, and the agents assigned to transport Artemis Fowl had already allowed their attention to lapse several times. They were jet-lagged and thoroughly shaken by how easily their target had taken the entire affair in stride.

_I've faced down an entire family of trolls_, he thought scornfully, _Of course I am not impressed by your American guns. _But rather than speak, he walked passively along with them, by all appearances unaffected by the cuffs that circled his wrists.

He had known this was coming since war first broke out at the discovery of another civilization beneath the surface of the earth. What had once been oddities in the file of a crime lord's son had suddenly found an explanation and it was only a matter of time before someone would haul him in for questioning.

Artemis's mistake had been the estimate for just how long it would take. He'd known the countries were bickering over jurisdiction; he'd believed the matter would be sorted out _before_ he was arrested. Instead, custody had been transferred three times over the last twenty-four hours until the CIA escorted him across the ocean to American soil.

He should have done more to cover his tracks by breaking contact with the fairies, planning his exits -

_No. _

_Now is not the time for regrets. Focus, Fowl._

He'd already taken the liberty of picking the pocket of the nearest agent, the phone and wallet now secure in Artemis's coat. At this point, it came down to luck: at a suitable distraction, he would slip away. From there, to Russia, where certain contacts would help him disappear. He had already decided to not contact the Butlers - he trusted them with his life, and so they needed to be with his family. The twins and his parents must be kept safe.

Whatever was coming, he knew already that it would not end well.

The intercom screeched with feedback. The voice that followed was far too enthusiastic to be one of the airport staff:

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is a simple public service announcement that the water in the fountains is not - I repeat, is _not_ safe for drinking. Bottled water is fine. Have a wonderful night and thank you for - _excuse me, that's my hat -!"_

The crowd had barely returned to normal volume when a tall man in tweed dashed into view. He clutched an aviator's cap to his head and was followed by a trio of security guards. The agents with Artemis tensed and reached for their weapons, attention trained on the disturbance, one of their jackets still soaked with the water he had spat out across the floor.

It was almost too perfect. By the time somebody turned around to check on him, the pale young man had slipped out of his handcuffs and melted into the crowd.

-x-

Later, when Artemis was boarding a plane bound for Moscow under the passport for Bashkir - which had until this point been secreted in the lining of his coat - he spotted the man in tweed across the rows of seats. The stranger beamed and saluted.

"Passport and ticket, please," the attendant asked again, and Artemis started and handed it over. When he turned back, the man was gone.

He considered the man as he stepped onto the plane, committing the odd tweed and bow-tie outfit to memory. A theory was hammering the back of his brain and, given other circumstances, he might have slipped the attendants an incentive to hold the plane while he chased down the stranger to confirm it. Instead, he had to push the incident from his mind to concentrate on the matters at hand.

_Moscow_, he thought as the engines started up. In Moscow, he'd do what he could to gather information aboveground and ensure it reached the right hands. He'd alert Holly of any critical intelligence. Mediate. Minimize casualties.

_Do what I can for the People, as I owe them everything that I am._

As the plane began to ascend, it took conscious effort to relax his jaw. There was much to plan.

-x-

At first his advice had been suspect. He was human, and had once been public enemy number one.

It was only after his guidance had saved fairy lives several times over that it was taken as credible, and eventually acted upon without question. Nobody was entirely sure how he managed to do it, but over the ensuing weeks Artemis tapped into agency databases, military campaigns, media outlets, and political forums to build a comprehensive picture of the conflict and pass along information before it showed up on any other radar. A month later he began actively guiding events, using proxies and careful suggestions to steer human actions towards minimal bloodshed. When that was not enough, he found ways to forcibly shut critical operations down.

One time, a GPS unit had backfired so badly that troops in the Sahara Desert had wound up wandering in circles for days; another, an entire squadron of stolen shuttles simply refused to turn on one morning, and never moved again - they'd found a single gold coin on one of the dashboards. More times than could be counted, the fairies seemed to know what was coming before it came to pass.

It was always something.

Artemis seemed not to mind having a target on his back. If anything, he relished the frustration he caused the agents assigned to his case. He guided them in circles, turned them against each other, and always seemed to disappear just before the net closed in.

-x-

He'd even started keeping a blog, updating it every other day with concise, sardonic, and entertaining writing. Artemis denounced the war, clarified popular human misconceptions about the People, discussed new developments in the conflict, and claimed responsibility for his own role in derailing various military operations. The blog was personal enough to be engaging, yet careful to not reveal too much. At one point, the criminal psychologists tasked with decoding the website realized it was likely that the textbooks and theories they kept referencing had actually been written by the target himself. In the words of a particularly embarrassed operative, "a twenty year-old kid with a laptop is making us all look like morons."

The next day, an especially scathing post confirmed their suspicions (and prompted a frantic reevaluation of their security systems): Artemis _had_ authored that particular book, and they should note that he had been eleven at the time. _Nice try, though_.

Foaly had heavily mocked Artemis's new virtual life. "A blog? You're kidding. We're fighting a war here, Mud Boy, and you're spending your time blogging about it?" The human had merely shrugged and changed the topic each time it was brought up.

One evening, news outlets in various countries received simultaneous messages regarding a blog written by a supposed terrorist. Almost more interesting than the blog itself was the fact that various agencies had been trying to scrub it from the Internet for weeks now, without success. By morning several dozen "human interest" articles had hit print and, in a matter of hours, the blogosphere caught on to the controversy.

It exploded.

Artemis gained a massive readership, and humans finally began to openly discuss the morality of scrubbing an entire race of intelligent beings from the earth. Days later, his efforts resulted in practical gains as several countries buckled under internal pressure and entirely withdrew their support of the war.

"A good payoff," Artemis declared, "for a few hours of my time. You seem surprised - tell me, did you think I was merely doing this for fun?"

For once, the centaur had no comeback.

-x-

Despite their best efforts, the hostilities worsened with every passing day. The People fought amongst themselves as to the best way to proceed while the humans constantly pressed onwards. Outposts were lost every other week now. Only a matter of time, Holly Short knew, until somebody sustained a serious loss.

She had been activated as a field agent two days after conflict broke out, her steady trigger finger and ability to keep a cool head under pressure giving her an edge on dangerous solo missions. So far she had managed to avoid actual combat, though that was more due to luck than to any particular strategy.

At least, she hoped so. Artemis, to his credit, feigned innocence. He kept in regular text contact with Foaly, maintained a flow of reliable intelligence, and managed to call Holly once or twice a month, just to talk. It was good enough.

-x-

They held their ground for over a year.

-x-

The communication had said merely that the mission specifications would be relayed via a discrete contact at the drop point. No description had been given, assuming that Holly would have no difficulties recognizing the fairy - and it was easy to see why. Snow drifted over the flat, deserted land, and a lone figure approached from the distance.

He was tall - human. Holly tensed, prepared to flee skyward should this turn sour. There were humans against the war, who did their part by fighting for the People, but few enough. Holly couldn't take the chance that this was not the enemy.

_Trust Foaly. He would not have sent me into a trap_, she reminded herself.

And then the sun peered over the ridge and she caught sight of familiar wind-tousled raven hair. It was speckled with white flakes of snow, effectively aging him, and the tips of his ears were red with cold. His eyes, blue as the surrounding ice, were carefully scanning the area, searching for that telltale distortion in the air. He looked as if he hadn't seen the sun in months.

She decided to make it easy for him and unshielded as he neared, noting the surprise that registered briefly on his face. It wouldn't have shown, once.

"You're looking well, Holly."

"And you look like hell warmed over."

He frowned. "I was trying to be polite."

"I know."

Their eyes met, and his slow grin caught hers. "I wasn't aware you were authorized to be so far north."

"I'm not. Was told that a contact needed a favor, and apparently it was important enough that Foaly wanted it in my hands. So you tell me: exactly what are we doing in Greenland, Arty?"

"Evidently, something important." For an instant, their icy surroundings didn't matter - the war didn't matter - they almost could forget the last twelve months.

And then it was time to focus on the job at hand.

-x-

Everything went according to plan, until it didn't.

Out of nowhere came a grating sound, like vacuum tubes passing over concrete. Artemis looked up and Holly tackled him into the snow, sending them both skidding down the slope with a small avalanche of ice trailing behind.

It was better than the alternative: the mysterious blue box barely missed hitting him on the back of the head as it careened to the earth.

-x-

"No, no, no - don't touch that!" yelped the strange man. He wore heavy glasses and a tailored jacket, and his Converse squeaked as he tried to push himself up off the floor. Holly jammed her Neutrino a little bit more firmly the man's temple and Artemis prodded the exposed wires anyways. The entire console room shuddered.

"You don't understand," the man pleaded, "She's very touchy! If you pull the wrong lever - twist the wrong knob -"

"What did you say your name was again?" Holly interrupted.

He twisted his head around to face her. "I'm the Doctor."

"Well, Doctor," she repeated, and continued fiercely, "Stop talking. Not another word."

Artemis had circled the console to peer at a small display clock. "Holly?" he said, his eyes widening. "I think I know what this is."

"Oh, no." She knew that look. It meant something big was about to happen.

"Put down your gun," he said. "This is going to sound crazy, but I know who this man is. Traces of him are scattered through history, if one knows where to look. I found them around the same time I discovered the People, but...well, you remember how I was back then. The People had what I needed, and once I proved their existence I did not waste my time following up with any other leads."

"Yes, Artemis, I remember," Holly snarled, though she did trust him enough to take a step away from the Doctor, allowing the strange man to clamber to his feet. "Get to the point."

"Fine. We're inside a time machine."

"You're right," she confirmed. "If that came out of anybody else's mouth, it would sound insane."

The Doctor chose that moment to pipe up. "Wait. Artemis - _the_ Artemis Fowl? Oh, and you must be Holly Short! I've heard about you two!"

The human and the elf exchanged a glance.

-x-

"I don't understand," Holly hissed, watching as the Doctor bounced wildly around the engine room, insisting that they were going to love this next part. "Is he being sarcastic?" Artemis bent down to whisper in her ear.

"I'm not sure he could manage sarcasm if he tried."

-x-

"_Allons-y!"_

-x-

And so they saw the stars, and left the war behind.

Artemis got to shake hands with Sigmund Freud at a conference in Vienna, to browse the Library of Alexandria, to match wits with a young Albert Einstein in a pub in Zurich (that particular adventure had nearly ended in a fistfight, which amused Holly to no end). He constructed a mathematical map of the galaxy and studied the Time Vortex itself, noting with satisfaction that it obeyed many of the same physical laws as magic. Mastered the art of traversing paradoxes. Repaired a Chameleon Circuit, only for it to "break" again two days later. Built his own sonic screwdriver - it was green on the end and bigger from the improvements he had made to the basic model - and immediately had it confiscated by Holly, who threw it over the railing and into the engine room. His attempts to retrieve it were stymied by the TARDIS itself, which seemed to have entirely absorbed the device the moment it hit the tangled wires.

"Don't worry about it, Arty, it'll turn up again someday. Things like this always do," the Doctor reassured him. The human spent the next few hours glaring at them both.

While Artemis was enraptured with learning all he could about the cosmos, Holly was less interested in the past. All of time and space stretched out before them and she wanted to experience everything, to dive headfirst into new civilizations, new worlds, new adventures. She explored the forests of Kantra, flew over the fields of Poosh, climbed the cliffs of Castrovalva. Outshot an entire squadron of Judoon - Artemis realized midway through the ensuing chase that, by altering the parameters of a few traffic laws, her escape would become embarrassingly easy. Rescued several prominent Vinvocci scientists from peril as Artemis and the Doctor bickered over how to shut their experiments down.

There was running to be done and galaxies to be saved, and Holly Short wanted all of it. The Doctor happily did his best to oblige, and she drank the universe in.

-x-

Artemis found himself in the cargo hold as Holly piloted the nursery ship to safety, tasked with keeping a roomful of Adipose children calm despite the sounds of a firefight raging outside the ship's hull.

Twenty minutes later the Doctor opened the door to find the young Adipose clustered about the human, absolutely riveted as Artemis spun a story about a pair of brothers who saved the world with the help of a hero named Professor Primate. It was a tale he had concocted in happier times as a bedtime story for the twins.

Later, the Doctor asked Artemis exactly where that had come from. The human frowned, and his voice was distant. "I have younger brothers. Twins, named Myles and Beckett. They would be seven years old, by now."

The Doctor gave Artemis an odd look. He had, thus far, avoided pressing for information about his friends' timelines. "Artemis Fowl, people only speak that fondly of their home when they know they can't return to it."

Artemis sized the Doctor up for a moment. Finally, he replied primly. "You speak as one who knows."

It wasn't a question.

-x-

Holly and Artemis spent many a night perched on top of the TARDIS as it drifted through space, hands clasped to anchor each other within the spaceship's gravity field. She dozed as he unravelled the stories of the sky, and for a few precious hours both of them knew peace.

It was perfect.

-x-

"Hey, you two! Dogs with no noses - go on, guess, how do they smell?"

"No -!" Holly's warning came too late.

"Well, I would assume that with their primary sensory modii disabled they would have evolved some other compensatory mechanism. While it would be difficult to ascertain without firsthand evidence, I would imagine that -"

-x-

Crossing their own histories was out of the question, of course, and the Doctor refused to tell Artemis how the war ended. This confirmed to him the truth. When Holly speculated and strategized and worried, Artemis lied and told her he was confident they would both be okay.

-x-

It could not last forever. The longer they stayed away from the war, they more firmly they knew that they eventually had to return to it.

The blue box materialized in Greenland three hours after they had left, and it was time to continue the fight. The Doctor watched them trudge up the hill together, hand in hand, and then closed the TARDIS door. Nothing more he could do. They were headed towards a fixed point.

Holly and Artemis embraced once more, and felt each other breathe. Held on for as long as they dared, until finally there was no choice but to part ways.

She could not help but turn one last time.

It was impossible to make out his face, the setting sun cutting out his silhouette, his collar turned up against the wind. Artemis raised one hand, a silent goodbye; she nodded, and shimmered out of sight.

-x-

The war shifted two weeks later, and all trips to the surface ceased.

-x-

He paused with the phone in his hand, shook his head as if to clear it, and then dialed. How easy it was, to pass the point of no return. Holly answered on the third ring, and Artemis did not bother with formalities.

"You need to get out of Haven."

"Arty -"

"Listen to me, Holly. After fifteen minutes, anybody still in the city is dead."

That got her attention, and she blurted out her first thought. "How?"

"No time. Just go. Be careful." He hung up before she could protest, knowing that his refusal to elucidate on the matter would be a thousand times more effective than any words.

-x-

Artemis had never passed up the opportunity for a grand reveal. Even on the verge of being swallowed by a black hole, once, he had still managed to find a chance to elaborate on a scheme. Now he had insisted there was no time.

_D'Arvit_.

Holly grit her teeth and stood up on her chair, the extra height giving her a temporary advantage. All eyes on her, for just an instant - she cupped her hands around her mouth and _shouted_. She knew that sometimes communication relied on choosing the perfect words at the perfect moments, but was equally aware that in a true crisis it simply came down to lung capacity.

Thirty seconds later the conference room was empty, and the alarms were blaring

-x-

He removed the memory card from the back of the phone and snapped it in two, though the damage had already been done. The threat to the city had been building for weeks, of course, though the immediate crisis had come out of nowhere. No choice but to use an unsecured line to contact Holly - he could not justify the time required to arrange otherwise. _I may as well have broadcast my location through a megaphone for the world to hear. Twenty minutes, at the outside, and then I'll have company. Best to get as far away from here as possible before that happens_.

There was nothing more he could do for Haven. Not with such short notice, at least. _If I had more time, maybe -_

But no, the days of paradox were past. Holly was truly on her own, and so was he. _The People could not be in more capable hands than hers. They will escape, and that is all that matters_.

Artemis slung his bag over his shoulder, shut off the lights with his hand tucked inside his sleeve, and surveyed the small room one more time before stepping outside into the cold night air. The accommodations had not been up to his usual tastes or standards, but he had learned quickly that when becoming a fugitive the first and hardest trick to master was to sever all ties to your former self. Inconspicuous was better, though he was still loath to abandon his suits.

Heart pounded, mind raced, lungs ached already from the low Moscow smog.

He chose to leave a single gold coin behind, setting it down on the desk beside the ruined cell phone. Artemis knew his pursuers quite well, and was reasonably confident that they would waste several minutes trying to decipher the token's meaning. Even if he were wrong, there was no point in pretending not to exist.

_It is irrelevant, as I am a traitor either way. And traitor I shall remain, as I refuse to step back and allow my species to commit genocide_.

His footsteps crunched in the newly-fallen snow as he disappeared into the dark.

-x-

Of course the city had a contingency plan.

Their first evacuation drill had been an utter disaster. A single traffic pile-up caused by an errant swear toad had resulted in hours of urban congestion, and an absolute headache for everybody involved.

Luckily for the People, they'd had more than enough time to perfect their escape plan. The population of the city had drastically dropped over the last several months of fighting, as well. It stung to admit that helped.

It was all Holly could do to try and keep order in the streets, her head spinning, pulse racing. When the sirens rang out, the strained populace responded without hesitation. In a matter of minutes Haven turned itself inside-out, the streets rising into chaos and then abruptly dissolving into silence.

Holly herself piloted the last shuttle to depart, chased onwards by the screeching of metal and the acrid scent of smoke.

-x-

It was winter in Russia - but then, it was always winter in Russia. Haven had fallen fifteen days ago, and now Artemis hunched over a portable heater with a disposable cell phone in his hands. It was almost drained of battery life and he'd transformed the charger into a transmitter, allowing him the range to send one last message.

His fingers were stiff with cold, so it took time he did not have to tap out the short blog entry. One line, four words.

Noises sounded from out in the hall. He fumbled to press send, watched to confirm the message had gone through. It was slow - so slow. The sent icon appeared just as the door smashed open. Artemis dropped the phone to the floor, his boot crushing it as the men stormed the room.

-x-

A few days passed with no word from Artemis, and she worried for his safety.

After a week, she knew there was no longer any point in fear. It only made her fight harder.

-x-

"_They were brave. They were always brave."_

-x-

Two months and eighteen days after fleeing her city, Holly Short stood her ground in Atlantis - fought tooth and nail for the last stronghold of the People. They had retreated there in the hopes that the sea would protect what they had left.

An old friend had once insisted that there was always a way out, and so she refused to surrender. Holly had never been one for the path of least resistance, and the determination that led her to become the first female LEP officer saw her take charge after the chain of command had fallen.

She did what she could for her people, even if the only option left was to refuse to show fear.

After the auxiliary power fizzled out, she held her chin high and waited for what was to come, finger tapping a tattoo on the Neutrino at her hip. Not a surrender, never a surrender, though they were too far under the ocean for help to reach them now.

As the salt water rose around her ankles, she thought she heard an impossible sound. By the time the ocean hit her calves, she knew she was not imagining it, and raised her flashlight to search for the source amongst the chaos.

"Doctor!"

-x-

The blue police box was familiar, even if the man inside it was a stranger. He was taller now, still lanky, too much nose, too little eyebrow, and a bowtie strung jauntily around his neck.

And then the Doctor opened his mouth, and for the first time in weeks she knew something would turn out well. "Holly Short! Need a lift?"

-x-

Atlantis flooded a second time, and was lost.

Humanity celebrated their victory.

-x-

There were enough survivors that they could not all manage to crowd in the console room of the blue police box, spilling out into the hallways and corridors, exhausted and battered. _Thank the gods it's so much bigger on the inside._ Many of them were barely able to stand, and the next few hours were spent finding beds and healers for the wounded, passing around food and water, and explaining the situation to everybody. Now that the immediate tasks had been accomplished, Holly stood at the railing, surveying their blank-eyed faces as she munched on an oat bar. Some were familiar: No 1 slumped in a corner to sleep off a magic headache, Chix Verbil nursed a crippled wing, Lili Frond wandered in aimless circles around the room, and Foaly examined the TARDIS control panel while Caballine watched from a few feet away. Most faces had no names attached, though over the past few weeks she had come to know them all by sight.

Holly had already offered what healings she could, giving her last magic reserves to mend broken bones, burns, cuts. Now she allowed the railing to support her and listened to the familiar humming of the spacecraft. Out of the thousand who had managed to survive the fall of Haven, maybe half had escaped Atlantis alive.

Being back in the TARDIS felt a lot like coming home. She half-expected to see a familiar pale face - he'd take the steps from the engine room two at a time, because even with his longer legs that was still the only way to keep up with her - any moment now -

No.

Four hundred and ninety-eight fairy refugees, and the Doctor, and that was all.

-x-

When they were finally able to speak in private, she found she did not have much to say to the Time Lord who had saved her life.

"Now we're going to go get Artemis, right?" she asked, feebly. "He _did_ send you to help us?"

The Doctor, for a moment, showed every single one of his thousand years. "Oh, Holly. Of course he did, and we can't. The loop's closed." He jammed a thumb against a button on the console and a screen appeared in the air, tinted green. It displayed a web page she had not visited in weeks.

Artemis's blog had a new entry. A single line of text. The timestamp declared it had been written at one in the morning, two months and three days ago. A message from beyond the grave, queued to go live exactly when needed.

_Atlantis needs a Doctor._

"How did he know? If he wrote that the night he -" But no, there were still some things she could not bring herself to say. "I thought you had us on spoiler lockdown the entire time."

"Well, yes, I did," admitted the Time Lord, pressing another button. The blog entry disappeared. "Haven's fall was a fixed point, Holly. The People's escape from the city, spurred by a single phone call. That call had to be made, and the consequences had to play out. I'm sorry."

She bit her lip. "But he found out about Atlantis?"

"No," said the Doctor. "He couldn't have. Not from me, at least."

Holly Short narrowed her eyes and hit the button once more, bringing the blog entry back. For a moment, she channeled Artemis's iciest glare. "Clearly, your spoiler policy needs work."

-x-

She sat on top of the TARDIS, gazed alone at the stars, and missed her best friend. Holly could almost imagine him beside her, elaborating on about fractals and paradoxes, about the space-time continuum and the angles between the stars. She'd gotten very used to tuning him out, and he'd become accustomed to repeating himself later when the information actually became relevant.

_...Paradoxes._

_Oh_.

-x-

A carving in the wall read: _The place of the cure of the soul_.

The Library of Alexandria smelled of spices, papyrus, and sand. A cool evening breeze drifted through the door, and he sat at a table with his head bowed, lamplight illuminating his face as he pored over yet another scroll. Holly watched from the doorway for a moment, remembering. Artemis had needed to be dragged from the building as the fire spread, so adamant that they should do more.

"We can't abandon the most extensive compendium of human knowledge to ever be lost to history!" he had shouted through the smoke, and in that moment she could have stunned him.

"Less talking, Fowl! More running!"

The memory made her smile now, and almost immediately her eyes stung with tears. The elf couldn't let them fall.

He lifted his head as she entered the room, his eyes bright and shoulders relaxed. It was something she had found very fitting - Artemis had been at his happiest inside the greatest library humanity had ever built.

His smile faded as soon as he processed the expression on her face. Gingerly, he set the sheet of papyrus aside and stood. "What happened?"

"Atlantis. May nineteenth, eight thirty-two in the evening. I'm sorry."

"Holly?" There was alarm in Artemis's voice now, and he met her in the middle of the room, set his hands on her shoulders. "Holly, talk to me."

She found she had no words left. Instead she reached for his tie, grasped at it, pulled him down into a kiss. He was warm, and tasted of peppermint, and kissed her in return.

Artemis blinked when she pulled back, dazed for just a moment.

"I am never going to figure you out, am I?" he breathed, his hands somehow now at her waist. Holly's smile twisted.

"No."

"Good," he said, attempting to regain some composure despite his racing heart. "I don't suppose I'd ever want to." He turned to the desk to roll the scroll back up; by the time he looked back to Holly she had vanished, not even a shimmer remaining in the air to tell him where she had gone.

-x-

Once upon a time he had died.

Once upon a time he had been buried and awoken to fairy roses, and so he knew there were worse things than to stop breathing. Once upon a time he had seen the earth from outer space, and so he knew how vast the world truly was. Once upon a time he had been a broken boy, and so he was no longer afraid. He had done everything that he could.

_Atlantis. May nineteenth, eight thirty-two in the evening. The People will survive._

His hand moved to the fairy gold at his throat, and Artemis Fowl the Second closed his eyes as the men stormed the room. Exhaled a decade of magic, and inhaled the cold scent of snow.

No one bothered with that notion of prisoners, not in these times. Not after everything he had done, not after a life spent aiding and abetting enemies of the Human Race.

It only took one shot.

-x-

"_Some left me, some were left behind, and some - not many, but some - died."_

-x-

Holly sat in the shade of an ancient oak, watching the water twist around the bend. A centaur colt was splashing in the water, shrieking with laughter as two sprite children bobbed in the air beside her.

The sun was smaller here on Poosh, as the planet orbited further from its sun than Earth. Nevertheless, it was much preferred to living underground - and far better than extermination at the hands of the humans.

It had been the Doctor to suggest it. He's assured the refugees that the lunar cycle was similar enough to Earth's before stopping back a hundred years to plant forests of oaks in strategic locations. The native Pooshians were few in number, used to tourists, and more than willing to grant a portion of their planet to five hundred fairy refugees.

It was not an easy choice to abandon Earth, but unanimous all the same. And now, at last, the People were starting to adapt to their new home.

"They are very energetic," sighed Foaly, watching the children fondly as he dried himself off with a towel. "Did I ever mention I don't like swimming?"

"You love it," Holly countered with a half grin. She had remained a de facto leader as the People hammered out the details of their new lives, though refused to take any official title. She worked hard and kept a level head, and the last whispers of contempt at dealing with the "crazy girly captain" finally ceased. The acorn around her neck, hung in a tiny time capsule, served as a reminder: plan for all contingencies, and there will always be a way forward.

Memory served her well, and her people lived.

-x-

Several galaxies away, drifting aimlessly through the expanse of space, the Doctor received a call from Torchwood.

-x-

A single shot was all it took.

Artemis opened his eyes and drew a sharp breath. For a moment, he wondered dazedly whether or not he was still alive. Then his brain caught up with the situation, and his eyes darted around the room. The wounded agent, crumpled on the floor at his feet. The others, whirling to train their handguns on the grinning man in the doorway.

"Hello, fellas," the stranger said with a wink, and hefted his weapon. "Mine's bigger. Wanna play?"

Not entirely sure whether or not his situation had just improved, Artemis had nonetheless survived enough firefights to know there was only one appropriate course of action in this scenario. His hand slipped from the coin around his neck as he dropped to minimize the target his slim frame presented, taking the opportunity to move to the edge of the room.

Within seconds, the fight was over.

Artemis froze, crouched against the wall, his mind racing. _I am hallucinating. I have died and I must be hallucinating. No, that is impossible - this is not what dying feels like. I would know._

The man in the doorway shouldered his weapon, and crossed the room. "Captain Jack Harkness," the man introduced, and held out a hand. Artemis reluctantly took it, studying the man closely as he pulled him to his feet.

"You're with Torchwood." It wasn't a question - after returning from his travels with the Doctor, he had read all the files.

"And you, Artemis Fowl, have had the CIA chasing their own tails for months. It takes a special sort of person to use a blog to fight a war - loved the writing, by the way. But nope, not here on official business. I was in the area and just thought, hey, it'd be a shame if that Fowl kid got himself killed before I had a chance to shake his hand."

"Omsk is too far away from Cardiff for this to be a coincidence," Artemis remarked mildly. Harkness rolled his eyes - apparently everything he'd heard about this Fowl character _was_ true, after all.

-x-

The three men sat around a table in an open-air cafe, talking quietly as dusk fell. The smell of honeysuckle drifted on the evening wind, clusters of it growing on the windowsill behind them. The Doctor couldn't help but note that Artemis still looked ill. After the physical and mental strain of his last two weeks in Russia, even the springtime Cardiff air was slow to help him recuperate. The young human tapped his fingers absently on the table as they spoke, actions clustered in groups of five. A small relapse, and one that - given the circumstances - nobody commented on. Harkness took a swig of his coffee.

"Honestly, Doctor, we figured he was one of yours. Had tabs on his file for years, knew with all the disappearances and other irregularities, he had to be one of yours. We followed his blog, the kid was doing good work. It wasn't a big deal to track him down and pick him up when he finally got in over his head."

"I resent that. I wasn't in over my head," protested the blogger in question. Jack sighed.

"Arty, we've been over this. You put up a damn good fight for over a year, there's no shame in finally needing a bit of help."

Artemis frowned and decided to change the subject, tapping once more on the table. "And we've been over this - it's Artemis, not Arty." He paused. "Oddly enough, it turned out that Torchwood was wrong about my history, and the CIA was right. Perhaps the only thing they got right. The oddities in my file were due to terrestrial entanglements, not any alien contact. I suppose I can't complain, however, as Torchwood's erroneous assumption did save my life."

"He always talks like that, right, Doctor? It's not just something he's doing to bug us?"

"Do I really strike you as the sort of person who would -"

"_Yes_." The response came from both of them at once. Artemis sighed and took another sip of tea.

-x-

She was waiting for him in the library just off the console room. For once, Artemis didn't have eyes for the endless shelves of books; he moved through the aisles until he reached the round table that had become his preferred research space during their travels with the Doctor.

Holly was perched on the edge of the table, her feet on a chair and a holobook open on her knees. She looked up the instant he rounded the corner. The book slipped to the tile. Neither of them noticed.

Artemis stopped a few feet away as the elf jumped to the floor. Her mouth moved, unable to form the words. He waited.

"Three months?" Holly spat at last. "You couldn't call for three months? You let me think - ?"

There were no words that could serve as a proper apology. "The time loop needed to be stable. You survived Atlantis, and believed I was dead when we met in Alexandria. I could not even risk contact with my family." For once, his explanation lacked its usual elaborations. He was waiting for a reaction.

She crossed the space in three short steps, her wings activating as she moved. She rose into the air before him, arm raised as though to slap the human who, some could argue, certainly deserved it.

They moved towards each other at the same moment, and she nearly knocked him off his feet. His hands were in her hair and she could taste the peppermint on his lips again. Nothing else mattered - nothing else existed - nothing but the two of them together.

"There really isn't an excuse," she finally whispered, the anger already subsiding. "Three months. Arty, you should have picked up a phone."

"I know." Not going to argue.

"There is an entire universe out there, and somehow I still ended up having to be the one to deal with you."

"I know." Still not going to argue.

"...D'Arvit, Artemis!" Her hands on his shoulders now, holding him at arms length, taking in his face - a little bit older, a little bit haggard, a little bit too pale, even for him. He met her eyes. One hazel, one blue, and he couldn't help but smile. An entire universe, and he'd found her. At twelve years old he'd found her, and he had been desperate and broken, and after all these years she still hadn't stopped saving him.

He fervently hoped he would never stop trying to figure her out.

"I know."

And that was all there was to be said.

-x-

They sat on top of the time machine and watched galaxies swirl past.

"By the way, your sonic finally resurfaced. In Leadworth, apparently, and I don't think you're getting it back. The Doctor seems attached to it."

Artemis smiled, his thumb tracing small circles against the back of her hand. "It's fine. I'll build a better one. I was thinking there were some design flaws to be corrected, anyways, and drafted some schematics in Russia. Burned them towards the end, not wanting to risk the technology falling into the wrong hands, but now I should have a working prototype within a week."

Holly laughed. "You realize that he'll pout for days if you actually give it a wood setting, right?"

"Actually, I'm looking forward to it."

-x-

"_Geronimo!"_

-x-

END.

-x-

**_Author's Note_:**

We really have no excuse for this. It wasn't originally supposed to be a cross-over. This fic started out in a round of mutual angst when one of us realized that Artemis would probably be arrested if war broke out, and would definitely refuse to abandon his friends to their fate. After all, he once kidnapped a fairy to save his family - he is simply not the sort to bury his head in the sand when somebody he loves needs his help. Also, we couldn't imagine him taking kindly to being labelled a "traitor." The scene where Artemis is shot in Russia was Winged's fault, as she realized pretty quickly that Arty would eventually get in over his head. She dropped 343 words in my inbox, and from there, well...I had problems. It got complicated. Bear with me. This explanation is a doozy.

Long story short, at first I was all, "whee, a war!" and Winged was all, "whee kill people!" and then I was all, "whee kill ALL the people!" and then I was all, "gah, kill ALL the people!?" and Winged was all, "yes?" and then I was all, "wait, kill ALL the people?" and Winged was all, "...why not?" and I was all, "FINE I WILL KILL ALL THE PEOPLE" and then Winged was all, "...why are you doing this to yourself you are clearly in distress you should stop" and then I was all, "WAIT - WHAT IF TARDIS!?" and Winged was all, "Freud stop" and I was all, "can't be tamed WHEE" and Winged was all, "Freud okay I get it no seriously stop" and then -

Well, and then Barrowman. And just this once, Rose, everybody lives! Winged got on board, and as always, I insist that the truly brilliant bits are hers (_of course_ Artemis built Eleven's sonic!). If any of the timelines are screwy it is 100% my fault, since I spent ages staring at a calendar trying to sort them out. I guess the overall lesson here is that we have problems committing to a sad ending. My imagination ran away with me and I apologize profusely for it! -Freud

P.S. Jay's too modest - the most brilliant stuff is hers. Well, pretty much all of this is hers (and it's all so, so brilliant). The tale of how this came to be is completely true. The process of going through all those steps to create the fic was almost worth it for that explanation alone.

Or, to sum it all up: we had a hell of a week. -Winged


End file.
